


put your hands on me, in my skin tight jeans

by scarlettblush



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:05:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettblush/pseuds/scarlettblush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hits Raven like a clue-bat. Erik is going to fuck Charles right here, staking his claim like some kind of cave man.</p><p>Or the one where Charles goes into heat and attracts all sorts of attention. Understandably, Erik is jealous as fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put your hands on me, in my skin tight jeans

**Author's Note:**

> In response to [this](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/6084.html?thread=7945668#t7945668) prompt.
> 
> I haven't gotten into the specifics of the omega/alpha dynamic. Just go with the flow, bro. This is very silly, by the way.

Raven looks back at it all and wonders why she didn’t realise something was wrong.

It’s a subtle shift.

Charles changes slowly, in the way he holds himself, how his body shifts with his shoulders high and tense as he mutely emits rage. She doesn’t question how he looks stunning. He looks his most beautiful in those moments, his rage magnificent and never-ending.

But Raven never questioned it, ignored the way Charles suddenly became all sharp angles and sinewy expanses between shoulder blades. These were the things not worth noticing. It was easy to ignore the perpetual scent that always lingered the hallways of their home, a sign that Charles was close by, lurking wherever the scent led her.

But it did come to her attention, like a hammer to the face, right about the time when they’re fighting Hellfire Club for the first time. Charles had stumbled his way through the debris surrounding them, trying to get a lock down on where everyone was when Azazel had teleported right in front of him.

She remembers it with absolute clarity, how he’d stilled, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air and she'd thought Charles was doing his voodoo mind tricks. Azazel had dropped to his knees, taken Charles’ hand in his own, and professed his undying devotion, luring him with exotic locations along the way. ‘I swear, mi amor, I will take you wherever you want, just say the word. You will be my queen,’ he swore, as he kissed Charles’ hand while Charles looked mortified, trying to yank his hand out the way while it was being molested quite thoroughly.

That’s when she realised that this was way more than Charles and Erik screwing around like nymphomaniacs. This was all territorial wolf shit. Of course, this realisation came right about the exact moment Erik growled furiously and practically flung Azazel into a new dimension.

Well, well, shit’s about to get real.

*

July 23rd, Day One

It starts on a Tuesday.

They’ve been training for two-weeks now. It’s an early wake up call today, six in the fucking morning. She feels sluggish and Sean looks practically cross-eyed at this point. Moira, of course, is cheerful as usual, greeting her with a bright and dazzling smile that would frighten any motherfucker. She’s even got her make-up slapped on, ready for anything it seems.

Moira is buttering her toast at the table and Sean’s eating his cereal when Charles enters the kitchen. He looks freshly showered, cheeks flushed bright pink and eyes a misty blue. He looks like he’s spent the whole night initiating filthy acts, the kind she refuses to think of in the same sentence as her brother. Charles is an old fart in a questionable body, so Raven knows it’s an unlikely possibility. He’s probably been dreaming of ways to educate young, bright minds with the orgasm-inducing wonders of genetics.

But see, this isn’t what catches her attention. It’s the silence that spreads throughout the room, intense and suddenly suffocating in its speed. Charles carries on, clueless to his surroundings, surprisingly enough. He's humming a tune as he heads to the cupboard with the assorted selection of cereal in it.

Moira is staring at Charles, lips slightly parted, and for a second, Raven swears her eyes flicker to Charles’ ass as he bends over. Moira lets out a breathy sigh, disgustingly wistful and needy, before she jumps out of her seat

‘Do you need help Charles?’ she asks, rushing over to him, her hips ridiculously close to his.

Charles looks up from where he’s bent, shaking his head and then frowning at the contents of the cupboard, as if he’s making the most difficult decision of his life.

Moira flips her hair, letting out a high pitched giggle, and Raven is suddenly mesmerised along with Sean at the strange occurrence taking place in front of them. It's like watching those strange nature programs about wolves and hippos that Erik is trying to enforce onto them all.

Moira leans down. ‘Are you sure Charles? I can make you something if you’d like.’ Charles stares at her, taking her offer into consideration. ‘I’m really good at boiling eggs,’ Moira says in a rush, as if this will clearly seal the deal.

Raven notices how Sean is looking at Charles in a funny way, his spoon still frozen in mid air. He  sniffs the air for a moment, eyes suddenly glazing over. He looks like he’s just spent on hour watching some good quality porn.

She looks back at Charles and suddenly feels a tremor rush through her body.

She whips her head around, and sure enough, there’s Erik standing in the entrance of the kitchen, vibrations slowly pulsing though the room with a steady increase. Sean’s spoon flies up in the air, before landing in his bowl with a rattle and spraying him with milk and Cap'n Crunch.

Erik’s watching Moira, eyes narrowed, but otherwise unaffected. Raven notes how Moira’s whole body tenses for a moment before she gives Charles a smile and returns to her forgotten toast, ready for a fight and chin jutting out as she passes by Erik like she's fucking Muhammad Ali.

Charles, of course, is oblivious to it all. His body is already shifting in Erik’s direction, like a sunflower starving for light.

This is some strange shit.

*

The thing is, that’s not the first time it’s happened. She knows for a fact that it’s not the first for Charles to smell different, to have his features sharpened to a degree where people stop for a minute and take a double take and start flirting with him.

When Charles was sixteen is probably the first time it happens. They’re at the ice-cream parlour and Charles was paying the cashier at the counter, except the guy had refused when he looked up.

He’d looked at Charles with a nauseatingly dreamy expression. ‘Ah, no, they’re free. On the house. Anything you want you can have.’ Raven rolled her eyes, and scoffed at the absurdity of the statement. What the hell? That’s not what he said to her; in fact he’d scowled when she took too long deciding what she wanted.

Charles had smiled and insisted, but from then on, throughout the summer and so long as Raven was accompanied by Charles, they could have everything for free. That was a blissful summer, now that she thinks about it.

It never did click in her mind what was going on that day,though, and the consequent times that followed after, because Charles has always somehow mesmerised whoever he’s met, particularly men.

But it’s the first time it’s happened here, with everyone to witness the debacle.

With Erik, to be specific.

Yeah, she realises with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, this could be trouble.

*

M.Buss  
Main Category: Genetics  
Volume 50 Issue 3, July 1, 1961  
GSA

Being descendants of a long line of maters, modern humans have inherited strategies that have led to the success of the for-bearers. Some of these include long-term mating and short-term mating strategies. However, recent evidence has suggested the evolution of our genetics may also bring a new breed of maters.

A case study presents empirical evidence supporting evolution based hypotheses about the complexities of these mating strategies, whereby some humans are showing animal like characteristics.

Desires are central to all facets of mati--

*

Erik is cold for the rest of the day and the day after that. He shuts up every time Moira passes by or starts a conversation with Charles, which strangely enough is more than the usual amount.

Midway through Friday, as Raven’s lifting weights, she watches from the window how Charles and Sean are out in the grounds heading for practise. Sean leans down--it never ceases to amaze her how practically everyone they meet is taller than her brother -- and says something to Charles. She hears a delighted laugh from Charles, and Sean is beaming, pleased with himself over his results. She finds this sort of odd. It’s like Sean is trying to, well, woo Charles by cheesy jokes, which is just ridiculous. 

And that’s when she notices Erik striding up to them. And shit, holy fucking shit, because it looks like things are going to blow the fuck up. The weights are now forgotten and Raven’s nose is pressed against the window pane before she can even blink, breath fogging her view. Sweet Jesus, this is better than watching Anne cheat on Shelby with the hot astronaut neighbour.

Sean, it appears, has been hiding balls of steel. He doesn’t budge an inch when Erik finally intercepts them by the stone railing, arms folded over his chest and expression awfully placid.

Erik says something and Charles nods eagerly. It takes her a moment to figure out what might be going on.

Oh.

Well.

Fuck.

Erik is going to train Sean today.

She knows this for certain because he’s walking towards the satellite dish and Sean trails behind him, toes scuffing the grass like he’s a fish Erik’s reeling in. Charles is standing exactly where he is and waving at their retreating backs.

She sends a silent prayer for the boy, since Charles is a clueless fool and nothing on God's green earth is going to stop Erik and his plans that would rival an evil witch.

*

When you live in a house filled with teenagers, you’re bound to try to pass time through different ways. Most of their days are spent training and preparing for a battle that’s obscured in a clouded future.

Nights are spent worrying, fearing and hoping. When the sun rises, time is wasted on denying.

Somewhere along the way, they find different ways to pass the time.

So, really, no one can blame them for the sheer amount of gossiping that takes place in this house. It’s probably their favourite past-time hobby.

Well, it’s definitely her favourite.

Raven’s a curious person. She can’t help but want to know, probably more than the others, what’s happening around her, possibly even right under her nose. Erik enjoys reminding her with an old saying that if she sticks her nose too much where it doesn’t belong, then something might just happen to her nose. _Charming though it may be,_ he’ll often say with a sarcastic tone. During such occasions of wisdom, she likes to flip him the bird.

But the point is, she likes to learn new things, observe other people and share these ‘discoveries’. It’s how they get by. So it’s hard not to notice how Erik and Charles practically live in each others’ pockets. They have a friendship that’s hard to define, it’s a more than that, yet it somehow falls short of it, too. They’re inseparable. They stumble and trip together .

Alex has always said she reads too much into things. Hank doesn’t think there’s anything odd in their behaviour. Sean is too sex-obsessed most days to comment.

They are there, though. It’s something she can’t ignore. Not how Charles is maybe, quite possibly oblivious to the things around him. And maybe how Erik is more than just toothy grins--the ones where he shows too many teeth and looks like the perfect Colgate toothpaste poster boy--but they’re only reserved for Charles . How maybe, he’s getting more attached to Charles than he’s letting on.

Territorial to some degree.

When she tells this to Alex, he gives her a droll look. ‘You’ve been reading too much _Wuthering Heights_. For the last time, Erik is not Heathcliff.’

‘Oh that’s rich, considering you’re always swooning over Darcy,’ she’d said in a snotty tone.

Sean stood in the doorway, shaking his head in disgust. ‘Good God, Summers. Am I the only man left in this house?’’

But Raven knows something funny is going on. She can smell it in the fucking air.

*

Three-hours later, she spots Erik coming out from the trees and bushes, Sean probably somewhere behind him. It’s hard to see. The satellite dish stands like an omen between them and Raven’s curiosity.

Raven quickly runs back downstairs.

She’s supposed to be helping Hank set the table, but she’s been keeping watch with a reluctant Alex--she knows he’s got the hots for Hank, it’s good blackmail material during times of crisis--on Sean and Erik’s progress, so it’s her turn to report back if they’ve returned.

When she gets to the foyer, she can see through the window to her left that Sean is dripping wet as they make their way to the front door. She squints a little and realises he’s got weed in his hair.

Huh?

This is confusing.

*

In the kitchen, Hank’s already set all the dishes out; Erik usually deals with the cutlery. Moira--she’s in charge of the mint sauce--is standing next to Charles who’s attempting his first Sunday roast dinner, despite the fact that it's not a Sunday. He’s bent over, checking the roast lamb in the oven and Alex, it appears, is in charge of the potatoes and carrots. God help them all, he’ll set the place on fire if Hank moves an inch closer.

That’s when Erik walks into the kitchen. He looks awfully chipper, eyes instantly finding Charles, who’s poking the lamb with a disappointed look, like it’s committed the worst crime by not being as tender and as soft as Charles would like it to be. He pushes the tray in Erik’s direction, like Erik will come save him, biting his bottom lip red in worry.

Sometimes Raven wonders if Charles is secretly a thrill seeking slut--even though naive and timid Charles is the furthest from being one -- because the way he constantly seems to bend over at the wrong times makes her think he’s up to something.

‘Moira,’ Erik says. ‘Here, I’ll take over.’ His voice is sharp and clear, no room for arguments. Before Moira can even protest, he takes the bowl from her, inches himself into the space between the two, forcing her further away. She throws her hands up in the air in defeat behind his back, throwing him a dirty look. Then Erik looks at Alex, raising a brow at him, before taking the tray of lamb from Charles. Erik’s hand finds its way to Charles’ lower back as he guides their bodies much more closer than necessary, if Raven is to be blunt about it. She feels like she’s watching G-rated porn that happens to star her surrogate parents in the lead role. God, she wants to gag.

A few moments later Sean comes in, water dripping from his clothes to the floor and he’s glaring quite hard at Erik’s back.

‘What the hell happened to you?’ Alex blurts out, potato in his hand, all sense of self-preservation gone.

Sean scowls a little, shaking his head, though it’s futile, the weed won’t budge. Erik hasn’t turned around, still petting Charles’ back a tad bit too much for her liking.

Raven’s getting that funny feeling again.

‘Erik pushed me into the pond,’ Sean says moodily. There's partly accusation and possibly fear that’s lurking beneath his words.

Charles gives Sean a funny look. ‘Really? I doubt he pushed you in. Are you sure you didn’t trip and fall in? It’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ he says in a more gentle voice, like that's going to help.

This only results in Sean going red in the face. ‘I did not fall in. He,’ Sean waves a disgustingly green finger at Erik’s back, ‘shoved me in. I don’t understand what it had to do with training, but there were fishes in there.’ His voice gets high pitched then. ‘Lots of them. I don’t like fishes, not anymore,’ he says with a slight shudder. Sean’s been having nightmares, it’s a delicate situation.

Erik does move then, watching Sean with a thoughtful look. ‘It’s all part of the training, Sean. I pushed you in there so that you could face your fears.’ There’s a slight twitch to his lips, Raven’s damn sure. ‘I didn’t enjoy doing that to you. You think I would? I only want the best for you, Sean,’ he finishes, voice sincere.

That’s enough for Charles. He beams at Erik, who softens at the look. Moira’s rolling her eyes at the scene in front of her, pointing a finger into her mouth and making obscene gagging gestures. Sean looks a little uncertain. Maybe he’s just overreacting. Hank on the other hand, looks sceptical. Alex just continues playing with his potato, petting it slowly while frowning at Erik.

Sometimes Raven thinks Erik might secretly be the White Witch in disguise, and he’s plotting and planning with the sisterhood of witches right underneath their noses, up in the huge attic. 

*

Later that night, when Raven goes to bed, the black an endless stretch beyond her window, she thinks, _things can’t possibly get odder, really._

_*_

Funnily enough, it does get worse. Ridiculously worse.

*

July 27th: Day Four

She spends the night feeling the heat; how it’s hot and humid, sweat pooling at the base of her spine as she spends hours tossing and turning, wondering why the hell her body won’t stop thrumming. Her skin tingles with each movement, her thighs are sweaty, causing the material to stick to her.

She wonders if it’s just her. Maybe they’ve been overdoing it, this whole training and creating their own personal army of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

She wakes up in the morning, hips rocking back and forth, looking for some kind of friction and horny as fuck.

This is bad.

She’s woken up horny before, she’s a teenager, it’s bound to happen. This, however, is different. She feels her blood pulsing through her body, she can feel everything and it’s disturbing. She buries her face in her pillow.

God, what the heck is going on?

Raven stumbles out of the bed and yanks the door to her bedroom open. It’s six in the morning. There’s no fucking way anybody else could be awake, except maybe Charles. He’s the kind of idiot who likes to get up freakishly early and actually be functional.

Maybe its fate, maybe she tempted it too much last night by wondering if things could get worse, but there’s Alex, a few doors down the hall, staring at her with his mouth open like a fish and blinking owlishly at her.

He’s looking a little flushed, the kind where he’s been wanking the night away--which in-itself is a disturbing thought--and there’s clearly no end in sight for the poor idiot.

This is when she comes to the conclusion that it’s definitely not just her. This is an epidemic of the horny variety.

Alex is leaning heavily against his door, hands flapping around him, like he can’t bear the heat, like his skin is about to peel off any second.

Yeah, she’s feeling it too buddy.

‘Can you feel that?’ he asks. ‘Is it just me or are you hot, ‘cause I’m really fucking hot, Raven,’ he says. ‘Oh God. It’s been going on all night. What the hell?’

She steps into the hallway and the sun filters into her line of sight. Alex flinches as if he can feel it.

‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’ She doesn’t bother asking if he’s horny and wants to practically climb the walls. Shit’s pretty obvious.

She wonders where everyone else is. Is it just restricted to them, was it Charles’ stupid Lamb roast that did this? That motherfuker is never going near the kitchen again if it 's his crap cooking skills that have put them here.

Except it’s eerily silent and nobody is here.

‘Do you think it’s just us?’ Alex asks. He’s moved closer towards the window at his end of the corridor, still leaning against the wall.

She starts to hop a little on her feet. It’s like an itch that won’t go away, like she’s got ants in her pants and isn’t that the worst image ever. ‘I don’t know. I mean, Charles is on our floor and he ha-’ She stops suddenly, licks her lips and Alex shuffles right next to the glass pane. He looks like he’s dying, panting away like a sad, pathetic Golden Retriever. It takes her a moment to realise that he’s stopped right opposite Charles’ room. And suddenly, she thinks, _fuck_ , because that’s when Charles’ door slams open.

Alex jumps, startled by the sudden noise ringing loud and clear in the quiet space between them. She’s getting the distinct feeling she’s entered an Alfred Hitchcock movie and if she’s lucky, any minute now Cary Grant is going to come storming in and save her from this bullshit.

Charles looks like a mess, stumbling out of his room, pyjama bottoms riding low on his waist, and his thin t-shirt sticking to his skin. He’s flushed, cheeks tomato paste red and his hair are stuck to his forehead. He looks more startled than Alex when he spots them both.

‘Oh, I didn’t-’ he starts, before snapping his mouth shut.

She thinks, _what Charles, what the fuck, what didn’t you think?_ But Charles isn’t looking at her, he’s looking behind her, biting his lower lip to an infuriating red. 

She turns around and there is Erik.

Alright, so maybe it’s not going to be Grant, maybe she’s going to meet the psycho murderer first. Which in their case scenario has got to be Lehnsherr, who at this point resembles a shark.

It’s clear he’s raced his way up the stairs. His shirt is missing and all she sees is a lot of chest and a slim waistline, which, absently she notes she’s never realised the way Erik’s hips are so disturbingly slender. She feels like she’s entered the Twilight Zone--Erik’s hips are the last thing she should be thinking about.

Erik’s standing at the top of the staircase, eyes riveted to Charles, and then he shifts, notices Alex who is right next to Charles. Erik takes deep breath. Even from here she sees his nostrils flaring and then, holy fucking Jesus, he growls.

It’s a deep, low rumble.

From behind her she hears Charles moan, oh God, that’s definitely him and Erik is off, like a bat out of hell thundering down the hallway. She whips her head around to see Alex paling visibly and shrieking, before he runs as fast as he can towards his room. He won’t make it.

She knows he won’t.

And that, that is when it hits Raven like a clue-bat. Erik is going to fuck Charles right here, staking his claim like some kind of cave man.

Oh shit.

*

M.Buss  
Main Category: Genetics  
Volume 50 Issue 3, July 1, 1961  
GSA

Desire determines who we are attracted to, and who is attracted to us. They influence which tactics will be successful and those which will fail, unless the determined course is met by an obstacle. If this occurs than certain primitive urges may slowly begin to surface in the face of a threat.

*

Erik doesn’t know how it begins, the tell tale signs of the starting. It’s unclear. What he registers, probably the only thing at that point is how he needs to get to Charles.

Charles who is sweating, skin flushed pink, releasing a slow moan, hooking him in from there.

Only then does he see that Alex is here, too.

Standing next to Charles.

Right.

Next.

To.

Charles.

It’s electrifying, and slightly unnerving how infuriating he finds that. How the word _rival_ blazes in the forefront of his mind like a red-neon sign, telling him that its imperative he get to Charles before Alex does something, like, realise exactly how attractive Charles is. It’s a notion Erik isn’t ready to think of too hard, to even accommodate. All he knows, what his body understands is, he has to get to Charles.

Charles must know this because he looks right back at him, bites his lip and fucking moans as if he too needs the physical proximity or else they both might just implode.

He sees Alex shift, and the fucker glances at Charles. It’s quick and sharp, and that’s it, something deep and primitive takes over--later he’ll think these were the signs, he should have known there and then--but Erik just growls, deep and low, before tearing the whole place apart as the spicy, exotic smell of Charles suffuse his senses in his bid to get to him. To claim him. To fuck him.

He thunders down the hallway, his body smashing into Charles as he distantly hears Raven yelling in the background. ‘Get your hands off my brother, you neanderthal. Have you ever heard of wooing, you fucker?’ But Erik isn’t overly concerned with anything but Charles.

Erik’s body towers over him as Charles strains on his tip-toes, leaning up for something, hands finding their way onto his abdomen, fingers tugging at the drawstring. He tilts his head, like he’s waiting for Erik to do something, but Erik’s got other things to worry about first. Erik’s hands latch onto his hips and he lifts him up and throws Charles over his shoulder.

For now, Erik needs to get Charles out of the way, away from all threats, Alex being number one on the list with his blond hair and golden skin. Charles is pounding his fists against Erik’s back, shouting something as Erik catches sight of Alex, leaning heavily against the door-frame of his room, out of breath and hands clutched to his chest.

Erik glares at him, bares his teeth and lets out a low and deep growl as a warning. A rational, possibly sane part of him knows this isn't the way to go about it, but the time to be normal has sailed by.

He turns around, stares for a moment at Raven whose eyes are narrowed at him as she glowers in his direction, shaking her head. Erik walks into Charles' room and slams the door behind them.

Charles is _his._

*

 

Charles is hot and flushed with the effort of struggling out of Erik’s firm grip. He can see a fine sheen of sweat at the base of Erik’s spine and a part of Charles wants to push a little lower and lick it.

Erik kicks the door shut with his left leg, the bang deafening in the silence between them as he lets go of Charles, drops him down to the floor on unsteady legs.

‘Get your shirt off,’ Erik commands, sharply, and Charles starts to get wet at the order.

‘Erik,’ he breathes, fingers shaky as he starts to pull at the hem. Charles doesn’t know what’s going on, can’t grasp why he feels so hot and sticky and empty. All he understands is that he needs Erik's thick, heavy cock up his ass, needs it to fill him and mark him, needs to feel sore and wet and loose for days after.

Charles needs Erik, and it seems Erik knows this.

‘Erik,’ he says again. Erik shakes his head in frustration, instead yanks him forward by his shirt, smashing their mouths together like his storming his way into Normandy.

Charles returns the intensity, starving for Erik’s tongue, hands clawing at Erik’s back and leaving marks of need with his blunt nails. Erik laps at his tongue, sucks hard until Charles blacks out before pulling away and crushing their hips together, rutting slow and easy, like he’s got all the time in the damn world.

‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ Charles pants out, wanting this so badly yet knowing something is amiss.

Erik starts to mouth along his upturned chin. ‘Need you to get that fucking shirt off now,’ he says, sucking at his jaw, hands pulling the shirt up, and for a moment Charles is disorientated as he loses the feel of Erik’s body against his, the shirt obscuring his view.

He starts to pulls his pyjama bottoms down too, needing skin-to-skin contact as much as he can--Erik’s body is a mini-inferno against his.

Erik runs a possessive hand down his backside, squeezing hard and then pushes him onto the bed.

‘On your knees,’ he barks out and Charles hastens to obey, stumbling along the way. Erik kisses him again, says, ‘need to be in you,’ in between harsh kisses and, ‘fuck, this doesn’t even make sense.’

Charles makes a broken sound as Erik suddenly presses two long fingers into his slick hole. There’s no need for it, though, he thinks, as he thrusts back against them deliriously.

‘Look at you,’ Erik says, as his other hand rubs soothing circles against his thigh, fingers sliding in and out, but Charles is already slick and wet and just so fucking desperate for it.

‘You’re so fucking greedy for this.’ Charles lets out a broken sob when Erik adds a third finger, rutting against the bed-sheets by the fourth. ‘I’m going to make you want this so bad,’ Erik tells him, breath hot against his ass. ‘You want me to make you beg, want me to take you hard,’ Erik continues, ‘and I will,’ he tells Charles with absolute sincerity in his voice, there’s no denial of this fact.

Charles can feel a thundering in the back of his skull, it's loud and hard, travelling down his spine. He lets out a whimper and Erik growls, low and threatening, hooking his fingers against the hot, slick walls of Charles’ ass.

‘I couldn’t stand them all, the way they looked at you, like you were theirs,’ he bites out, and then removes his fingers, a obscene wet noise escaping, and pulls him up, readjusting him to his knees properly.

'I’m gonna fuck you. Right now,’ Erik says.

_Finally, finally,_ Charles thinks, _do it, God waited so long_ _._ He doesn’t know if he’s projecting his thoughts, is beyond caring at this point.

Erik’s hands are on his hips, hot and sharp like a brand as the head of his cock presses in, and even though he feels like he’s ready, that this is all he’s ever wanted, it feels too big, too much too soon. He’s shaking his head, clutching at the sheets, cursing and begging Erik to move, for God sake, until Erik finally sinks in all the way.

There’s a tense, silent moment, Erik hissing quietly and Charles wondering how he’s gone his whole life without this feeling because it’s everything.

‘You OK?’ Erik questions, voice strained like it’s killing him to stay so still, the need to mark Charles persistent.

Charles clenches down hard, and Erik sucks in a breath, _move, move, Erik_ _,_ Charles thinks, and Erik does, pulls out and thrusts back in hard, his scent surrounding Charles, permeating his skin. The air is thick with pheromones.  _Want you to fuck me,_ Charles projects at him as Erik continues to slowly thrust in and out, because the feel of Erik, every thick inch of him inside Charles makes him hum in a way he never has before. White light bursts behind his eyelids as Erik wraps a hand around his cock. _I want you to fuck me_ , he thinks again,  _need this_ , he wants Erik to know this, to never doubt that Charles wants him in a way he'll never want anything else, _love this, never been filled like this, don’t pull out, need you to come inside me, want you to mark me, please, please, please._

His eyes blur photon-red and Erik traces his fingers around the rim of red muscles, fingers pushing in alongside his cock.

Hours and hours later, Charles will wonder, how did he ever go without this? But Erik will continue fucking him and Charles will carry on wanting it, begging for it, and later, Erik will look at him and say, baffled, ‘We should have done this ages ago.’

Somewhere in the distance, Raven will be screaming, 'You motherfuckers, I hope he chokes on your dick!'

 

*


End file.
